


Deceived

by Lady_Juno



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: April Fools' Day, Crack, F/M, The Elvenking is a woman, fem!Bilbo, fem!Thranduil, girl!Bilbo, lady!Thranduil, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Juno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The April Fool's Day alternate chapter 9 for <em>Buried Coals.</em></p>
<p>Thorin and the remnant of his Company are taken captive by someone they hadn't thought to see outside the Woodland Realm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deceived

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Loki and I totally trolled our readers. It was SO WORTH IT. :D

Thorin stumbled along before the insistent prodding of their captors, too dazed, too tired, in too much pain to fight. The cords cutting into his wrists were loose enough to chafe, and the blindfold was tight enough to bring on a dull flash of light with each throb of his aching head. At length, he sensed that he was guided roughly into a spacious cavern. The hard hands that had been shoving him along suddenly disappeared, and he fell, his legs refusing to carry him any further.

"Well. If it isn't the mighty Mountain King." The smooth, languorous voice was too smooth, too perfect to belong to any but one.

Thorin stiffened, the rage that had been simmering steadily since this whole debacle began turning into stone cold horror. "Thranduil. You pointy-eared bastard..."

When the elf answered, there was a clear smirk in his voice. "How touching. You haven't forgotten me." Cool, slender fingers pulled the blindfold from his face, and Thorin was dazzled by the light of a fire against the opposite wall, which didn't at all mask the sparkling silver of Thranduil's ridiculous robe. Thorin didn't gratify the elf by wincing or turning away from the garishly scintillating eyesore, however, staring steadfastly forward.

"I'd suspect you were put up to this by Dain, but even he wouldn't stoop so slow as to ally with you and your... ilk."

"And I wouldn't have done it, if a _dwarf_ had been the one to suggest the plan." There was a momentary pause before the Elvenking retreated to a seat by the fire. It was then that Thorin noticed the second figure, his recovering eyes perceiving a large, oddly furry blur.

"But then," said the second, "a dwarf wouldn't have thought of it, would he?" The rich, pompous tone was a little rougher than Thorin remembered, but the voice was as unmistakable as the elf's. Thorin's head swam with the effort of trying to keep up with these revelations.

"The Master of the Lake... but I thought you were dead."

The man let out a snort, and it wasn't hard to imagine him rolling his eyes, even though Thorin couldn't yet bring his face into proper focus. Had his eyes been damaged? He hoped not.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Well, I'm not, and now I'll make sure you and all your little friends pay the price for destroying my gold. And my city." It was almost an afterthought, tagged sloppily onto the actual concern.

A shift of silvery light drew Thorin's gaze back to the elf seated by the fire. Thranduil leaned forward, arms crossing in a strangely insulted way. "Hold on, Cas. We had a deal. I ensured you caught the dwarves. Now Oakenshield is mine."

The Master waved a fat hand dismissively. "Very well, my dear Thranduil. Just as soon as you have my barge loaded with the promised payment, my men and I will be off, and you can toy with your prize as you wish."

"Wait." Thorin's frown deepened, his vision clearing slightly. "You- you mean..."

The Master chuckled dryly, fluffing up his fur mantle a little. "Precisely. I do believe Her Majesty will enjoy having you as a... plaything. You'll be excellent sport."

Thorin's cold horror descended into the icy depths of shock. " _Her_ Majesty?!"

"Did you honestly think elves so effeminate that our men would wear gowns?" Thranduil's tone was torn somewhere between offense and amusement. Thorin reeled. How could this be? It was as though everything he'd known was being turned on its head. Not that this was the case, he knew, but it _felt_ that way.

"Come along, little king. It's time for the two of us to be gone." He felt slender hands once more as they slipped under his arms and hoisted him to his feet with surprising strength. Thorin couldn't even recall seeing or hearing the Elvenking cross the room.

"Get off me!" he snarled, wrenching away. Alas, he was unsteady on his feet, and since his hands were bound behind him, he was unable either to balance or catch himself in time. Thranduil's reflexes, thankfully, did not falter, and she caught him just inches from the floor.

The others seemed to be too stunned to react properly. All except Billa, who had been standing, unobserved and tethered in the corner. "Why are you doing this? Thranduil, he's done _nothing_ to you! What in the name of Mahal's hammer is going on here?!"

Thorin felt like a rag doll as he was set on his feet again, and despite his disgust, recognized an expression on Thranduil's face that he'd never seen there before. It wasn't quite angry, but it wasn't really frustrated, either. The Elvenking (Elven _queen_?) was looking at his burglar as though the hobbit had stolen something precious from her.

"Stay out of this, Halfling," she said softly. "What happens to him is no business of yours." But Thranduil's hands were tightening around his arms, and dare Thorin say it felt almost _possessive?_

"So it was _you_..." Thorin scowled up at Thranduil. "I might have known you had her all along!"

Thranduil scoffed. "Well, I needed bait, and she walked right into my net. Don't worry; I have no interest in keeping her around. In fact, I've prepared a special escort for her - right back to the dratted Shire. As for the rest of your Company... that will be up to Cas. They're his problem now, and you're _mine_. All mine."

She grinned, slipping an arm behind Thorin as though to escort him somewhere.

Thorin tried to shrug her arm off, but the elf seemed rather determined to keep him close. The idea that she intended Billa to be sent home was a relief, but... he turned his gaze toward the man called Cas, whose waxed mustache was drooping slightly as he warmed himself by the fire.

"What are you going to do to my Company? They've done nothing to you."

"That's my business, and I don't have to share with anyone else." The Master's plummy voice took on a petulant tone, like that of a child who refused to come out from under the bed.

"Thorin, I won't let her take-" Billa had lunged forward, and very suddenly, Thranduil was between them. The elf had a hand on Thorin's shoulder to keep him upright, but in the other there glittered a very thin, very sharp knife.

"You've led this dwarf into enough trouble, you little rat. Now, back with the others, before I do something I _won't_ regret."

An instant later, Thranduil was on the floor and the knife had flown out of her grasp. Thorin had rammed her rather hard, and since she evidently hadn't expected resistance from that angle, she'd gone down rather inelegantly. Billa skittered toward the knife, but the elf was up again in an instant, and had somehow managed to scoop the blade up with her. Now she looked mightily displeased.

"Guards, get the Shire-rat out of my sight, and see that the Master receives his promised share, including the other dwarves."

Glancing down at her robes, she gave a little cry of horror, and immediately turned away. "I must change - I can't be seen like this. Have Oakenshield brought to me once everything else has been settled."

As Thranduil swept out of sight like a jilted lover and rough hands grasped Thorin's tunic, keeping him upright, Billa was picked up by a burly man in a leather apron and tucked under his arm like so much baggage. The halfling flailed and kicked madly, shouting insults at the top of her voice. It was something of a relief, really, to see her fighting so vigorously. She was at least relatively healthy, and not so badly frightened that she couldn't fend for herself.

Dwalin roared challenges as he flexed his arms, clearly trying to free himself by sheer force, while Balin stared at the man who stood nearest them, bow at the ready. The old dwarf looked rather as though he could use a strong drink before he dealt with any of this. Thorin growled at them to stand down, and the Company's struggles subsided.

"We're outnumbered and unarmed. I hope you have the good sense to stay out of trouble until a more opportune time." While more subtlety might have been wise, the way his head throbbed with each heartbeat was hindering that particular function.

"Ye can't be serious." Dwalin scowled at him. "We won't let 'em take ye, Thorin." His muscular arms were still flexing against his bonds, and Thorin felt the hands that were keeping him on his feet tighten around his shoulders. There was, as of right now, no chance of escape.

"I said stand down, and I mean it."

"Enough talk!" The Master, clapping his hands together briskly, nodded to his men. "Take Oakenshield to Her Majesty's chariot, and the rest can go into the dungeons. Ta-ta, Mountain King." He gave a ridiculous little twiddly wave, and Thorin found himself being ushered away without time for any further farewells.

Things, he reflected, might have been worse. After all, Thranduil seemed practically jealous, possessive of him in a way he might have almost described as... attractive. Thorin felt ill at the thought, and clenched his jaw against the taste of bile. Whatever elf-magic this was, he wasn't going to let it control him. No elf, no matter how gorgeous, was going to win _him_ over.


End file.
